Chapter 1

I never thought divorce would happen to me.

On our tenth anniversary, I booked a table at the fine-dining restaurant my wife, Yelena Shaw, loved most. It was a reservation I'd made a month in advance.

Yelena looked as stunning as ever in a new dress I'd never seen before.

When I handed her the gift, she offered a soft thank-you.

I remembered how her eyes used to light up during our first few years together, like a kid waiting to unwrap Christmas presents.

One year, she opened a box to find a necklace I'd saved up three months' salary to buy. She had thrown her arms around my neck and held on tight. Her eyes were rimmed with red as she whispered, "You idiot. Why did you spend so much?"

Times were tough back then, but life was sweet.

When we first got together, Yelena worked on the east side of town and I worked on the west. It was a two-hour commute each way.

I didn't have a car, just a little electric scooter, but I never minded riding across town to pick her up.

As I waited outside her office in the dead of winter, my hands and feet would go numb.

The second Yelena stepped out, she'd shove my hands into her pockets and stand on tiptoe to kiss me. "You dummy, I could've just taken a shared bike home!"

I'd shake my head. "I wanted to be the first person you saw."

Even after I bought a car, I never stopped driving her to and from work.

I loved waiting for her by the car, watching her run toward me and leap into my arms.

When my company hit rock bottom, she didn't hesitate to hand me the passbook for the savings account with the money she'd been saving for two years.

"Take it. If it fails, it's on both of us. If it succeeds, it's all yours."

Yelena had stayed up until 3:00 am helping me rewrite proposals. I swore right then that I'd give this woman the future she deserved.

Everyone envied how good we were together. I felt like the luckiest man alive.

For 20 years, I never crossed a single line.

I didn't smoke, didn't drink, and didn't stay out partying. I handed her my paycheck from day one of our marriage, and my phone passcode was her birthday.

We rarely fought, and whenever we did, I was always the first to apologize within two hours.

I always felt marrying Yelena was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I had to prove I deserved it.

So when we got home after that anniversary dinner, and Yelena slipped off her ring and gently pressed it into my palm, I froze.

I just stared at her, completely lost for words.

The living room was still decorated with anniversary balloons, and unopened presents were piled high on the table.

As our finances improved, I had made a habit of giving her two surprises every anniversary.

Just then, outside the floor-to-ceiling window, fireworks erupted into the night sky, lighting up the darkness with flashes of "I love you".

"Did you not like the gifts this time? Or did I mess up somewhere? Just tell me, and I'll fix it."

Yelena sat on the couch, having stopped after opening just two gifts.

"Don't you feel like our life has gotten pretty boring?"

She shook her head, staring down at her bare hand. "You're great. You've been wonderful all these years. It's just been too long."

Yelena paused, as if searching for the right word. "It's gotten stale."

When that word landed, it hit me. I couldn't even remember when she had stopped leaning on my shoulder while watching TV.

Or when she had stopped taking my arm when we went out for walks.

Even her voice on the phone had shifted from "When are you coming home? I'm waiting for you" to a flat "Okay, got it".

Yelena had changed, or maybe she'd been changing all along, and I'd just chosen not to see it.

"We've been together for 15 years," I said, my voice trembling.

She finally looked up with a sheen of tears in her beautiful eyes. "Yes, 15 years. Kendrick, I've loved you for 15 years. Isn't that enough?"